Harry Potter: the Battle Begins
by izzywizzy
Summary: AU sixth year. The battle has begun, and Harry and his friends have been thrown into the thick of it, who will stand victorious? HarryCho, small amount RonHermione.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Remember guys, this is my first fic so go easy on me!

Disclaimer: JK owns it all, I own nothing unless you haven't seen it before, in that case its mine.

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**Chapter One**

Sweat beaded at his brow as he worked, the Dursley's had heeded Moody's warning, but only to an extent. The daily chores that Harry had been forced to complete since he was barely into primary schooling still filled his daily 'to-do' list, although, his meals were of a much larger size. That had been one of the few things that had changed over the summer due to the warning the Dursley's had received from Moody. The chores though, had remained.

Dudley, his cousin, could still beat a whale in a competition of waistband sizes, but most of the fat that had once covered his bones had been turned into muscle. Dudley had taken to his boxing as a fish would to water. The Dursley's had been pleased to find a way to get the school nurse off of their back about Dudley's ever expanding size, but really Harry thought it had just given Dudley a reason to beat the crap out of people without being told off, not that the Dursley's would ever tell their little Duddy off for anything.

The Dursley's were very closed minded people, so of course it would have been their worse nightmare when their nephew, the son of Petunia Dursley's sister, had turned up on their doorstep one night fourteen, fifteen in the autumn, years ago. That precisely was what had happened. So, with his parents killed, brutally murdered, Harry Potter was sent to live with his aunt, her husband and their child. Thus, landing him here, mowing the garden so that he would receive a meal that evening, had the Potter's lived Harry's predicament would have been very different, but then again, if the Potter's had lived, Harry would not have been half the person he is today. You see, Harry Potter was no normal boy, oh no, he was, and still is 'The-Boy-Who-Lived,' he chuckled slightly, oh if people could see 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' now, he doubted that they would rally around him as they had started to since that fatal night last June. He tried to repress the thought, but he failed, and the thoughts of Sirius fluttered into his mind, as the tears began to prick his eyes, rapidly he wiped them away before the Dursley's caught sight of them, it would do him no good for the Dursley's to see him crying, to see him weak.

Shaking his head as though it would shake away the thoughts of what had happened that night in the Department of Mysteries. That night… he wished it had never happened. He wished that he had heeded the advice of his dear friend of Hermione and just left it. Believed her that it was a ploy of Voldemort. Oh no, he, as usual, had rushed in, blood flowing and rashly made a decision that had ultimately cost his godfather, his fathers best friend, his life.

Of course, there were other casualties, but he could not place his thoughts to them as Sirius filled and consumed his thoughts, the guilt he felt nearly over-rode him, nearly destroyed him. If it weren't for the Dursley's supplying him with a seemingly endless list of chores to complete, he had no doubt in his mind that he would have gone insane by now, wracked with guilt, grief and remorse.

Sighing, he wheeled the lawn mower towards the shed; he put it away and closed the padlock. He padded softly over the freshly cut grass and into the kitchen, he paused for a minute at the fridge to observe what chores he had left to complete and saw that he had none, that was a change.

He ran his hand through his unruly hair and quietly made his way towards the lounge, his aunt, a horse like woman with a long neck, which more than compensated for his uncle, her husband, a large, purple man with no neck resided in two of the three armchairs, their feet propped up footstools and watching their television. Silently, Harry sat down on the third armchair. His aunt made an expression of disgust that always graced her face when he came into her presence sat in place as she noticed him. His uncle merely grunted as to acknowledge him. The afternoon news flicked onto the television and the headline that filled the screen made Harry sit stock still with shock, but no fear was present, and slowly he nodded grimly, more to himself than to anyone else.

It had begun…

A/N: Be nice. Review. You know you want to! Also, if anybody wants to beta read this story for me, just send me an email and I'll get back to you.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I meant to get this one up last week, but I'm amazing at procrastination so I started it, but only got round to finishing it last night! I'll be using small bits of Half-Blood Prince, but its nothing you will notice if you haven't read it, just names and stuff like that.

Disclaimer: JK owns it all, I own nothing unless you haven't seen it before, in that case its mine.

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**Chapter Two**

The sun was drifting into the horizon as daylights last rays waved their good-byes and night dawned, not that she would have known, there were no windows in her bedroom at Grimmauld Place. She had done very little during her past couple of days here, the Weasley family were here too, and they more than made her feel welcome, but still she felt as if she were on the inside looking in. As, to be honest, she did not know these people, just that they were Harry's friends. Harry Potter. That boy had plagued her dreams and thoughts, night and day for over a year now, but she had long since come to terms with the fact that she had had her chance, and boy had she blown it. She truly wished with all her heart that she had not blown up at Harry that day in Madam Puddifoots when he had suggested they go and meet Hermione Granger, as it was obvious to her now that Hermione was smitten with Ron, and vice versa, not Hermione smitten with Harry. Oh well, she sighed, the past is past, and there was nothing she could do to change it.

Her room was depressing to say the least, Mrs Weasley, or Molly as she had insisted Cho call her, had cleaned it up, as it hadn't been cleaned for years. Cobwebs had filled the corners, there had been a boggart living under the bed, and there had been doxys living in the curtains.

She knew that this was the old Black estate, but who owned it now she had not a clue for the last of the Blacks (as far as she was aware) had died that summer, his name was Sirius Black. He had been charged nearly fifteen years ago for blowing up thirteen muggles, and one wizard. All that'd been found of the wizard was a finger. She now found that to be untrue, and the roles really had been reversed, the wizard Peter Pettigrew had blown up the muggles and had blamed it on Sirius, Peter had then faked his own death and had fled into the night. Her instinct had told her, when Ron had relayed the story to her, when he had reached how he escaped, Hermione had not so slyly stamped on his foot to shush him. He had lamely made up some feeble excuse to cover up his tracks. But what they did tell her, was that Sirius Black had been Harry's god-father, and the best friend of Harry's father.

She wished she could be by Harry's side right now, to relieve him somewhat of what he was feeling. She felt that out of his friends she would be the only one to understand, as from as far as she knew neither Ron nor Hermione had had encounters with grief. Although she doubted Harry would count her as one of his friends right now.

How she wished she could at home with her family back in China, surrounded by her loving relatives and eating the dishes from her homeland. But no, she was stuck here as Dumbledore considered her to be in danger from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, she doubted that she could possibly be in any more danger than any other member of the wizarding public, but she supposed Dumbledore had his reasons.

Her parents were staunch supporters of Dumbledore, even last year when he suffered attack after attack from the Ministry; they had stood by his side. Both of her parents, and her grandparents were members of the Order of the Phoenix, a group formed and led by Albus Dumbledore to fight against the ever-rising threat from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She did not think that they were doing much good.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had struck for the first time the previous evening. Twenty muggles were dead and eleven tortured past insanity, and the damage left behind was horrific. It was thought that those muggles had been attending a house party, a simple night of fun, all to be ruined by those sick bastards.

Oh, how Cho hated Death Eaters. They had taken away several of her family, aunts, uncles, cousins, and Cedric. Her relationship with Cedric was not what people thought. They were close friends, incredibly close, but they had never been properly intimate, a couple of kisses now and then, but that was it. She could not have taken it further even if she had wanted too, because for a very long time, a certain Mr Potter had occupied that space in her heart. It had torn her in two to have to turn him away from going with her to the Yule Ball in her fifth year, his fourth, but she couldn't just leave Cedric high and dry with only a couple of days to go. Sure he would certainly been able to get a girl to go with him, there had practically been girls lining up to go with him! But it had been obvious that he wanted to go with her. She felt so guilty for leading him along like that, but he was so good, honest and true that it would have torn her to leave him.

She wondered how Harry was dealing with his grief; she had not dealt so well with her own. If she had been able to control it, not let it consume her perhaps, she wondered, that she would not now be pondering the fact of whether or not Harry would now consider her his friend. She highly doubted that Harry would wear his heart on his sleeve as she had done. To be honest, Cho expected him to bottle it all up, as he had done while he was with her, never telling her exactly how he felt. She knew now what had happened that night that Cedric had died. At first, it had ripped her up inside, but knowing what had happened from Harry himself, granted it was in a magazine article, but it had brought some closure to her.

The last time that she had properly spoken to Harry had been that night not so long after the DA. He had lost his temper with her when she had expected him not to. She knew he had every right to be angry at Marietta, if it had been her in trouble with that foul Umbridge woman as he had been, she would have lost it with Marietta but it had not been her, and she had thought that he, a Gryffindor, would have understood about loyalty to your friends. But he had thought that by her standing by Marietta, whilst the rest of the DA had turned on her, she too had betrayed them. Though she had not. She did not have 'sneak' written in spots across her forehead.

She would be seeing him tomorrow. The mere thought of it sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. What would she say? How would she act? She sure as hell did not know. It was also his birthday tomorrow; she had bought him a small gift. She did not know if he would accept it, let alone like it. Mrs Weasley had taken them all to Diagon Alley a couple of days ago to get decorations and presents for his surprise party that she was planning. It had been a short visit, the Weasleys eldest son, Bill, had taken the money from their accounts for them to use for their shopping as he said that it would have taken far to long for them to get the money out themselves. They had only really stopped at the shops they needed to, and their stays had been short. The longest by far had been at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, where they had gone to see the Weasley twins; Fred and George. They had been in the year ahead of her, but she had still known them. How could you not? They had been the schools biggest pranksters after the Marauders, otherwise known as Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, their true identities were secret to the school. Anyway, the twins now had a joke shop, where business was booming. The amount of joke products in the shop was unbelievable, they were sure to put Zonko's out of business. She would not be surprised if Filch, the mangy old caretaker, put a blanket ban over them! She was sure Mrs Weasley was just short of a heart attack, as was Hermione.

But for now, she was back here, in her dull and dark bedroom at Grimmauld Place, a stark contrast to the bright and cheerful Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Her stomach rumbled, she had avoided mealtimes, screw that she had avoided the Weasley's and Hermione full stop. She could not stand to be with them for pro-longed periods. Whenever she walked into a room they were in, they would immediately shush, and shoot each other glances, and that wasn't just one or two of them, it was all of them, Mr and Mrs Weasley included. She knew she was the outsider looking in, and she wasn't too sure when Harry would come whether it would change, whether they would open the door instead of the window, and let her in to what was going on.

A/N: This ones a bit longer than the last, I think they'll gradually get longer until they reach a length I'm happy with. Thank you to my reviewers: wb, Dragon Sword Master and Trayus.

Go on, review, you know you want to!


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